Chapter 121 23

Chapter 121

Deep in the night, within the dense forest of Blackbird Mountain.

He Lin narrowly evaded the man’s attack.

His opponents consisted of a sniper and a close-quarters combatant, working in seamless coordination.

He Lin was familiar with this tactic; in real combat, it was known as "suppression and containment," or "close-range and long-range coordination."

The essence of this tactic was for a close-quarters combatant to engage at close range, pinning down the opponent and creating opportunities for a distant sniper. By strategically positioning themselves, they could achieve close-range control and long-range assault, maximizing their ability to suppress the adversary.

With this in mind, He Lin launched his counter-attack, spinning to face his immediate foe.

He Lin delivered a powerful punch, forcing Hong Mian to dodge and turn his back. This maneuver was crucial, as it allowed He Lin to avoid the sniper’s line of fire.

A faint rustling in the nearby woods signaled the sniper repositioning and adjusting his aim.

As he fought, He Lin pondered his options: with two opponents, he needed to either swiftly neutralize the close-combatant or disengage, create distance, and adapt to the situation.

However, the man before him possessed considerable physical strength, relentlessly pressing his attack—clearly a formidable adversary.

Meanwhile, the sniper hidden in the woods posed an equally lethal threat.

The opponent had previously attacked Lin Hui. While Lin Hui’s lapse in vigilance contributed, hitting a target accurately in such terrain and darkness still demanded exceptional marksmanship.

He Lin assessed that both individuals were highly skilled.

Yet, he couldn’t fathom why they were here, nor their connection to Gu Chuxi and Xie Nian.

He was facing Hong Mian and Ananta, both hardened veterans of countless battles.

Hong Mian’s moves were almost exclusively lethal, far from mere showmanship. Though he lacked formal training, his techniques were forged in the crucible of real combat, honed through blood and flesh. Even in daily life, he never relented, practicing diligently.

Ananta, born in a war-torn region, had handled firearms since childhood. An orphan, he had become a child soldier, surviving through brutal conflict. Having endured a hail of bullets, his marksmanship was unerringly accurate, every shot aimed at vital points.

He Lin steeled himself to face the enemy. He quickly identified Hong Mian’s weakness: while strong, the man lacked speed and adaptability, relying on unorthodox, unrefined techniques.

Recognizing this, He Lin decided to employ "alternating attack angles." This method involved constantly shifting the direction and rhythm of his attacks to breach the opponent’s defenses. Against an untrained adversary, lacking rapid reaction speed and quick transitions, such a tactic would inevitably expose vulnerabilities.

With this in mind, He Lin delivered a roundhouse kick to the man’s ribs, immediately followed by a punch to the opposite side of his face.

As expected, Hong Mian failed to react in time, taking a blow to the face that instantly left his cheek swollen and red. But before He Lin could savor his success, a gunshot cracked, and a bullet grazed his shoulder.

He Lin could almost feel the bullet’s slipstream, the sharp, whistling sound piercing his eardrum with pain.

Only then did a searing pain erupt in his shoulder. The bullet had carved a gash across his shoulder, leaving a trail of blood. Had it been a few centimeters off, it could have struck a vital area.

Even He Lin, a seasoned combatant, broke into a cold sweat from that shot.

The memory of a bullet striking his head caused his body to stiffen. In that precise moment, Hong Mian’s fist slammed towards his abdomen...

The man wore brass knuckles, their titanium-alloy spikes lethally sharp.

Such a powerful punch, if it connected, could at best tear flesh, and at worst rupture internal organs.

He Lin dodged, but the sharp edge of the brass knuckles still grazed his body, tearing the skin on his left abdomen, from which blood began to seep.

With two injuries, He Lin found himself at a disadvantage. Panting, he desperately sought a new angle of attack.

Just then, a familiar voice called his name: "He Lin!"

It was Li Shang!

Hearing his voice, He Lin’s pupils contracted, and his body tensed.

At that moment, another powerful punch from Hong Mian closed in, his fist cutting through the air.

He Lin feigned a kick. As Hong Mian raised his hands to defend, He Lin abruptly retracted his leg, swiftly stepping back. Then, he turned and sprinted rapidly into the forest.

Hong Mian was momentarily stunned, believing He Lin was attempting to flee, and pursued him relentlessly to press his advantage.

"Think you can run just because you can’t win? Not so fast!" Ananta, too, sprang up excitedly in pursuit, letting out eerie cries in the dark night, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust: "Kill, kill, kill!! Bring more, they’re all just coming to die!"

He Lin had run a short distance when Li Shang called out again: "He Lin, catch!" The equipment bag in his hand arced through the air.

He Lin instinctively looked up and firmly caught the items.

As he ran, he opened the case—it contained night vision goggles and a comms headset.

He Lin donned the equipment, instantly gaining "eyes and ears" in the battle. Li Shang’s calm voice came through the earpiece: "Right side, three o’clock direction, serpentine pattern."

He Lin heard the instruction and, without hesitation, immediately changed his path. Li Shang was likely positioned on the opposite hillside, not far away, with a commanding view of the entire situation. The direction he provided was undoubtedly the optimal route.

The two opponents quickly realized something was amiss. He Lin wasn’t running in a straight line but in unpredictable curves.

His changes in direction were incredibly swift, and with the cover of trees, Hong Mian clearly couldn’t keep pace with He Lin’s shifting movements.

For a moment, even in Ananta’s scope within the dense forest, He Lin’s figure vanished; the gun muzzle simply couldn’t track his movement.

"What the hell!" Ananta cursed under his breath, raising his head to search for his target.

He Lin’s running style was a classic battlefield tactic: "S-shaped movement," also known as "serpentine movement."

This method involves constantly changing running directions, making it difficult for an opponent to aim and predict movement, thereby significantly reducing the probability of being hit.

He Lin’s reaction speed and running speed were both exceptional. Moreover, with Li Shang’s guidance, he could swiftly enter the enemy’s blind spots and find cover within the woods.

The dark night also provided his best concealment.

Hong Mian was visibly enraged by the unfolding scene. He lunged forward, attempting to pin down He Lin, but before he could block He Lin’s path, a gunshot cracked, and a bullet struck his forearm. Hong Mian was caught completely off guard; a searing pain erupted in his left forearm, and blood instantly splattered.

It was Li Shang in the woods, firing decisively. After the shot, Li Shang swiftly changed position, relocating his rifle, and continued to direct He Lin’s rapid movement.

"He Lin, left side, eight o’clock direction."

Li Shang’s calm voice came through the earpiece, and He Lin’s body shifted accordingly.

Hong Mian, his arm throbbing, covered the wound with his right hand and glanced back in the direction of the shot. He realized that He Lin had just lured him into the sniper’s firing range.

Two against two—their odds had suddenly plummeted.

These self-taught combat techniques were clearly less effective than systematically trained methods for overcoming adversaries.

Hong Mian hesitated for a moment, then gritted his teeth and gave chase. He had just closed in on He Lin when the sprinting He Lin abruptly spun around, delivering a high knee strike directly to Hong Mian’s chest. Hong Mian grunted in pain and, with his uninjured hand, defiantly threw a punch. But He Lin didn’t linger in combat, repositioning himself again and weaving through the forest.

Ananta attempted to support Hong Mian, but as soon as he raised his gun, he lost sight of his target once more.

He wavered on whether to fire and couldn’t pinpoint the other sniper’s location in the woods.

This situation began to infuriate Ananta, yet it was also the first time he had encountered such a scenario.

He had seen many people use serpentine maneuvers before, but those movements had always seemed clumsy to him. He could still predict their path, and his targets simply couldn’t evade his bullets, inevitably becoming casualties of his gun.

But now, the person before him was agile, incredibly fast, and unpredictable. Despite his near-flawless accuracy on the battlefield, he found himself utterly unable to lock onto his target.

Ananta grew agitated. His once calm heartbeat gradually quickened, and his hand trembled faintly as he gripped his gun—a major taboo for a shooter.

Watching Hong Mian become increasingly passive, he had no choice but to aim and fire. Unable to keep up with He Lin’s movements, he tried shooting a bullet. With a bang, the bullet landed near He Lin’s feet, forcing him back half a step and buying Hong Mian a moment of respite.

But before Ananta could regain his composure, another gunshot rang out. A bullet sliced through the bushes he was using for cover, grazing his arm.

Ananta broke into a cold sweat, gazing in disbelief into the dense forest. His usually arrogant eyes now showed a flicker of fear.

This meant that the moment he fired, the opposing shooter had already pinpointed his position based on the sound and trajectory of the bullet!

And he was a full twenty meters from the battlefield, with cover in front of him, in the complex terrain of a dense forest in the dead of night…

His combat-honed instincts told him that the opposing shooter’s precision might be superior to his own!

Realizing this, Ananta quickly changed positions, melting back into the shadows.

In the forest, Li Shang calmly secured his gun and moved to another firing position.

Without sniper support for the moment, Hong Mian became increasingly defensive. Like a trapped beast being toyed with, he began to retreat steadily…

As time passed, Hong Mian was soon hit by another bullet, this time in the shoulder blade.

It could be said that from the moment Li Shang joined the battle, the rhythm of the fight had shifted in their favor.

What was once He Lin’s passive situation had instantly turned into their initiative.

The tactic the two were now employing was the classic "pulling the gunline" in two-person coordination.

One team member moves flexibly, constantly running and maneuvering to attract the enemy’s attention and fire. The other remains hidden, biding their time for the right moment to aim and shoot with precision.

This approach requires immense tacit understanding and absolute trust in each other.

And all of this, they had practiced thousands of times before…

.

Four years ago, early morning, Tianning Base training ground.

He Lin had lost track of how many laps he had run. Since morning, he had been doing this grueling drill, weaving swiftly through various obstacles scattered on the ground. Sweat had completely soaked his shirt, his legs ached from running, and his heavy breathing couldn’t keep up with his oxygen consumption. Sweat streamed down his forehead.

Whenever his speed slowed even slightly, a red laser would instantly target his torso, locking onto him tightly.

If this were a real gun, the slightest pull of the trigger would send a bullet straight through his heart.

It was a gut-wrenching feeling, having his life completely in someone else’s hands.

He Lin continued to sprint and dodge at full speed, but the shooter’s aim was too precise. Before long, the red dot reappeared, stalking him relentlessly, stuck to his chest no matter how he tried to shake it off.

From the sidelines, Rong Qing’s voice drawled lazily: "He Lin, you’re moving so slowly I could turn your chest into Swiss cheese."

"You’re just standing there without moving! I’ve been running all morning!" He grumbled, He Lin took a few gasping breaths, gritted his teeth, and resumed his sprint.

A team of trainees passed by the field, led by the Captain of Mangshe, Xing Weixun. He waved and greeted Rong Qing: "Morning, Captain Rong. Training already this early?"

Rong Qing gave a slight nod and replied, "Morning."

A few team members stopped to watch the two training with curiosity. One of them asked Xing Weixun puzzledly, "Captain Xing, what kind of training method is Captain Rong using?"

Xing Weixun walked over and gave each of the lingering trainees a light kick: "Who said you could stop? Keep training. Nothing to see here. Captain Rong is just exercising his dog."

He Lin, still running at full speed, nearly stumbled.

Hey! I can hear you, man!

After another lap, He Lin truly couldn’t run anymore. He stopped, bent over to catch his breath, and then simply slumped onto the ground.

The dog had officially called it quits.

Rong Qing looked at He Lin, whose chest was heaving violently, and judged that he hadn’t hit his limit yet.

"Get up!" Rong Qing strolled over and prodded He Lin’s thigh with the tip of his shoe.

The person lying on the ground was soaked and steaming with sweat. Rong Qing taunted, "Did you not eat breakfast this morning?"

Gasping for air, He Lin stared at Rong Qing’s chest and said, "Yeah, didn’t eat. I’d really like some steamed buns."

Rong Qing kicked him. Why so inappropriate?

He thought for a moment, pursed his lips, and said, "Fine, if you don’t want to train, forget it. Not everyone can handle hardship. Go to the cafeteria and have some steamed buns. I think Zhu Xiaonian would be more suitable for this position. He’s got better stamina and won’t hold me back."

He Lin wasn’t bothered at all. He just raised an eyebrow and looked at Rong Qing, a hint of dissatisfaction in his eyes. But his chest was still heaving too much, and he could only gasp for air, waiting to recover enough breath to speak coherently.

"If you’d named anyone else, I might have believed you," He Lin said, not rushing. Instead, he smiled, looking directly into Rong Qing’s eyes. "But no matter who you name, it’s useless. You know no one is more suitable for you than me."

Hearing this, Rong Qing leaned down, grabbed He Lin by the collar, and hauled him up. He brought his mouth close to He Lin’s ear and whispered so only they could hear: "Then what are you slacking off for here? You should channel the energy you use to deal with me at night."

He Lin clearly misinterpreted this, even nodding thoughtfully. Seeing his expression, Rong Qing grew irritated and wanted to hit him, but he was afraid the little pup might lick his hand.

While hesitating, he heard He Lin tilt his head and whisper, "Captain Rong makes a good point. Save some energy. I’ll be waiting for the leader’s guidance tonight."

Rong Qing was livid. He let go of He Lin, stood up, and tightened his grip on his gun, aiming it at He Lin’s forehead. His expression looked like he really wanted to unload on him right then and there.

Captain Rong gritted his teeth and mercilessly kicked He Lin twice: "Get up! Run ten laps on your own."

"Why so irritable all of a sudden?" He Lin muttered softly, rubbing where he’d been kicked, a hint of grievance in his tone.

"But if you can’t increase your speed, you’ll just be a sitting duck on the battlefield. I won’t be able to save you either." Rong Qing looked down at him, his expression serious, patiently explaining.

He Lin lay on the ground, reaching out to touch Rong Qing’s leg, his fingers moving up and down: "I do want to work hard, leader. Mentor me more. I really want to improve, but…" His voice faded as he closed his eyes and moved his lips.

"What?" Rong Qing didn’t catch what he said and leaned closer.

With a sudden effort, He Lin pulled Rong Qing down into his arms.

Rong Qing, holding his gun, couldn’t maintain his balance and was afraid of actually crushing He Lin. Caught off guard, he found himself pulled into He Lin’s embrace.

He Lin grunted as Rong Qing’s full weight landed on him, but he didn’t let go. He held him tightly, chest heaving, and repeated the words into Rong Qing’s ear: "Rest with me for a bit. We’ve been training all morning. Just a little while. I’ll train properly later, I promise."

Rong Qing struggled but couldn’t break free. He threatened He Lin fiercely in his ear: "Let go, or later you’ll wait…"

He looked up and met He Lin’s smiling eyes. For the umpteenth time, Rong Qing’s harsh words died in his throat.

In the end, Rong Qing relented. He gave up struggling but still said coldly, "Fine, ten minutes. Then we continue."

The two sprawled side by side on the training ground.

The sky above the base was incredibly blue.

White clouds drifted lazily across the sky. He Lin secretly hooked his finger with Rong Qing's, and this time, Rong Qing didn’t pull away. Instead, he curled his finger slightly, locking fingers with He Lin's.

In the distance, the sounds of other team members training could be heard, but this open space remained undisturbed. Everything was peaceful and serene. They only needed to lie there quietly, looking intently at the sky they hadn’t truly taken the time to admire in so long.

At this moment, the sun shone brightly, and his lover was by his side...

.

Four years later, in the forests of Wuque Mountain.

Li Shang sized up the situation and called out over the comms, "He Lin, strike back."

He Lin turned and threw a punch at Hong Mian’s left shoulder. Almost simultaneously, a bullet struck Hong Mian’s waist.

Their coordination was perfectly seamless.

Bright red blood splattered. Shot three times, Hong Mian had almost completely lost his ability to defend himself.

The severely injured Hong Mian let out a roar of fury! With eyes red with rage, he charged toward He Lin, who got ready and swung his fist forward.

Gritting his teeth, Hong Mian mustered a surprising burst of strength in that instant. He lunged forward recklessly, leaving himself completely open, as if willing to go down fighting.

Sensing the danger in Hong Mian’s desperate move, He Lin quickly retreated after landing his strike but was still cut on the thigh by the blade on Hong Mian’s brass knuckles.

Before He Lin could react, Hong Mian came at him again, leaping up with gritted teeth and aiming straight for He Lin’s chest. The man’s jaw was clenched tightly, his stance seemingly intent on shattering his opponent’s ribcage.

He Lin stepped back with one foot, turned his body left, and blocked with his arm.

Hong Mian, unable to retract his hand in time, had his right arm grabbed by He Lin. Using Hong Mian’s forward momentum against him, He Lin pivoted and tripped him, sending him sprawling.

Then, He Lin’s eyes narrowed. He drove his right fist downward, landing a heavy blow to Hong Mian’s chest.

A sharp pain shot through Hong Mian’s chest, as if his internal organs had been crushed into a pulp. Unwilling to accept defeat, he coughed up a mouthful of blood, red droplets spraying through the air.

The splatter of blood made him think, for a moment, of the kapok trees back in his hometown. Every flowering season, red blossoms nestled among the green leaves, covering the entire tree. Clusters of vibrant red flowers bloomed together like flames, fierce and free.

Hong Mian’s tense muscles finally relaxed. It was as if he had returned to his childhood, lying beneath a kapok tree, watching the flowers fall...

Blood flowed, staining the ground red.

Then, he closed his eyes.

Seeing this, Ananta’s eyes reddened. He knew this was his last chance to struggle—Hong Mian had been defeated, and he would be the next target. There was no way he could escape under the assault of those two.

With that thought, he stood up and dashed forward several steps.

Seeing Ananta emerge, Li Shang, hidden in the forest, had a bad feeling about this. He, too, rushed out from the woods.

By now, the young man had completely abandoned seeking cover and didn’t even bother aiming. He charged straight toward He Lin, raised his gun, and prepared to fire.

He Lin looked up at the barrel of the gun pointed at him—it was too late to dodge...

It was a stance utterly with no defense, a move made with no regard for life.

The next second, Li Shang had already shifted his position, leaping in front of He Lin. Without hesitation, he threw himself forward.

At the same time, Li Shang switched to his handgun. As his body lunged forward, he twisted around and decisively raised his gun to return fire.

The two shooters pulled their triggers almost simultaneously.

Bang!

Bang!

Gunshots echoed through the forest.

Ananta’s body shuddered slightly. He looked down at his chest.

Crimson blood gushed out.

He had seen his comrades fall before, but he had always believed it was their failure—their defeat. For the first time, the ever-victorious Ananta felt so acutely that this was life, not a game.

The young man’s eyes widened, and he fell backward onto the ground.

At that moment, Li Shang also coughed harshly, pressing one hand against his neck. Bright red blood seeped through his fingers.